


Fancy a Quiche?

by Itrustyoutokillme



Series: Hooked by a Swan [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Light Spanking, Naughty language, Quiche, Smut Fest, Teasing, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 18:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/Itrustyoutokillme
Summary: Newly married Killian Jones and Emma Swan just spending an evening together after a long day policing Storybrooke.





	Fancy a Quiche?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lifeinahole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeinahole/gifts), [bleebug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/gifts).



> So there was a conversation, in which [@bleebug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/pseuds/bleebug) and [@Lifeinahole](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeinahole/pseuds/Lifeinahole) decided that this should happen.
> 
>  
> 
> _"bleebug:_  
>  look ok, i just want them to have a lazy morning where killian is wearing only sweatpants, hair a mess, bags under his eyes from his and emma’s late night activities, standing at the kitchen counter putting together all the ingredients for a fancy breakfast quiche (because Food Snob) and emma wandering downstairs in her camisole and sleep shorts and her hair in a quickly pulled together high bun, and she just plants her face between his shoulder blades and wraps her arms around him and runs her fingers through his chest and belly hair and he grins and lets her feel him up and cling to his back while he pops the food in the oven and then he finally turns and buries his face in her neck ughhh
> 
>  
> 
> _lifeinahole:_  
>  But now all I have is the image of Emma squeezing his pecs like, two handfuls just honk-honk style, and I think that’s probably completely unlikely but also would prompt Killian to ask, “Swan, are you still drunk? How much wine *did* you have last night?”  
> So. Thanks…?"
> 
>  
> 
> _So i thought, why not? nothing but prompted smut. Sorry, not sorry._

Apparently, there were no limits to Killian's abilities. In the time it had taken Emma to slip off her boots, the creased leather groaning under her grip as she tugged them off her feet, Killian Jones had began his one handed massage of her tired and aching soles. Emma relaxed back into the couch cushions, feeling their huge down envelope her equally tiresome shoulders. She groaned, a long drawn out syllable of pained pleasure, and a smile crept across her face.

“Good?” Killian asked softly as he watched her face contort and then relax with each roll of his thumb. Sitting on his knees on the floor in front of her, Emma felt like a worshipped Goddess.

Emma hummed another long vibrating sound in her throat and nodded. “Good,” she agreed, finally peeling open her eyes to look down at the man who was working magic on the swollen balls of her feet. Killian was casually dressed in some black sweatpants and a dark blue cotton t shirt hugged his upper body. A wisp of his chest hair sprang from the v-shaped neck of the collar, and his shoulders and biceps rippled with every forceful thrust of his massage. “You're so good to me,” she smiled.

Killian's blue eyes were shining back at her, his boyish smile full of innocence and sweetness she knew for a fact he did not possess. More often than not, a small gesture, such as a foot rub, turned into something a little more racier. He had a tell and Emma always knew the exact moment he intended to show her exactly how good he was to her.

After Killian has peeled both of her socks off, Emma swapped out her feet, letting Killian lace his ringed fingers between the toes of her neglected foot. The cool metal cooled the fire between her toes and his long, nimble fingers slid across her throbbing sole. “So tense, Swan,” he commented idly, pushing harder against a newly found knot by her ankle.

“Nothing that cannot be fixed by you,” Emma blinked at him, her heavy body barely registering its presence to her as it was replaced with just a tingle from his touch. Even with one hand, Killian never ceased to amaze her.

“Or wine,” Killian countered innocently. He lifted her leg and Emma let him. Killian looked up at her through his long, seductive eyelashes and pressed his lips to the inside of her ankle, the fine bone fitting perfectly into the pout of his lips. Emma stifled a giggle when his whiskers tickled her foot, her entire body shivering as goosebumps spread over her in a wave.

“We have wine?” Emma gasped a little, sure they had finished the last of it a few nights ago.

“Aye,” Killian smoothed his thumb of the skin of her foot and let Emma's leg fall to his lap. “I procured some of Storybrooke's finest this afternoon,” he wiggled an eyebrow at her.

“You went shopping?” Emma laughed a little. “Unaided?”

Killian shrugged his broad shoulders and sat back, trying not to feel so offended at her jest. “Henry was busy,” he let his own laugh escape his lips.

Emma's whole body shook with her laughter and she smoothed a section of her untied hair from her face. “I'm kidding,” She assured him as she sat forward, enclosing him between her jean clad thighs and leaning towards him. Killian's head rolled back and he smiled up at her when she laid her palm to his whiskery cheek.

“Aye, I know,” he whispered to her, his eyes flickering between her sweet, kissable lips and her darkening green eyes. He loved Emma's eyes. They were the most vibrant shade of green when she was excited, sparkling like speckled emeralds against the paleness of her skin. When she was aroused they darkened considerable, the hint of a shadow reflecting her lust.

Emma closed the gap between them and sealed his lips with her own, pressing against them so lightly that Killian felt like he was floating. His legs had long since gone numb but he was reluctant to move away from Emma's side. Emma's lips skimmed over his and he felt her body relax even more, all of the constriction of stress leaving her entire being.

Killian kissed her back, gently parting his lips and inviting her tongue into his mouth with a moan. Emma read his mind, slowly pushing her tongue into his mouth and massaging his with her own. Killian cupped her face, thumb pressed to the side of her cheek and fingers tangle in her soft, blonde tendrils that threatened to fall across her face. He held them at bay, pulling on them gently in frustration when Emma pulled away for a breath.

Emma's fingers bunched the material of his t-shirt and she could feel his stiff, curled chest hair tickling at her hand from beneath the collar of his shirt. Emma held him to her, noses pressed side by side and foreheads together, their breathing in sync on every pant. Emma's entire body tingled, aching and crying out for more of Killian's touch. But she was starving, having skipped lunch, and if she didn't stop kissing him they would surely starve.

“You alright, love?” Killian brushed his fingertips over the skin behind her ear as he pushed the hair from her face, his fiery touch causing all of Emma's synapses to fire at once.

“Hungry,” Emma's one word answer made Killian chuckle and he pulled away from her with a smirk.

“And If you meant what I'm hungry for, you wouldn't have stopped kissing me,” Killian pushed himself to his feet and offered her his hand and a raised eyebrow. Emma blushed a little, but he was right. When it came to Killian Jones, Emma would do anything to taste him a little longer, only right now her stomach protested with a fierce growl.

“I skipped lunch,” Emma confessed, clutching to her rumbling stomach as she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Killian purposely pulled her harder than he needed to, pressing his semi hard erection into her hip as they collided. Emma grinned, a breathy gasp escaping her throat.

“Maybe later I could massage you some more,” Killian smirked and smoothed his hand along the edge of the red leather of her jacket. His fingers darted under the hem of the pliable material and skirted over the warm skin of her lower back. “You know, when you are sated.”

Emma smirked, looped her arms around his neck and stretched against his firm chest. “I don't think I'll ever be sated.”

Killian almost growled, his entire body fighting to stay pinned to the woman he loved whilst his mind, the more rational of his inner beings, tried desperately to remind him that Emma was hungry. And a hungry Emma was almost as frightful as some of the worst seas monsters he had come across. Henry had once called his mother 'hangry' and proceeded to explain, the the most teenage of ways, that it meant someone was both hungry and angry. Normally the anger was caused by the hunger and so the vicious circle was complete.

Emma, as flirtatious as she was right now, would no doubt be 'hangry' at any moment, and send his arousal scurrying for the outermost reaches of the farthest realms in no time.

With a grumble, Killian stepped back and Emma pouted. “I've cooked you dinner,” Killian said quickly, lacing his fingers in hers and tugging her to follow him. His bare feet made no noise across the surface of the floorboard, and Emma followed obediently with an excited skip.

“You really are amazing, Killian,” Emma smiled, mostly to herself as he was facing away from her.

Killian stopped just short of the kitchen, the dining table embellished with pristine crockery and cutlery behind him. He moved behind Emma, leaving her awestruck at the layout before her. No food was visible yet, but as she gasped, Emma could almost taste the aromas on her tongue. She had no idea what he had cooked, but it smelled absolutely incredible. Emma had no doubt it would taste exactly the same.

Killian tugged her jacket from her shoulders with his one hand, his hook having being long retired for the night leaving just his smooth stump. He pushed the red leather down Emma's arms and she shook it free to help him. Killian quickly rested it over the iron hooks they had screwed to the basement door in a makeshift coat rack, and then returned to her.

“I mean it, this is incredible,” Emma had to blink a few times in astonishment. Killian pressed himself into her back and wrapped his arms around her waist, smiling when Emma's delicate fingers gripped onto his forearms.

Killian nuzzled into Emma's hair, inhaling her scent and finding her ear under the long, curled softness. He felt her body shiver and the hairs on his arms stood on end. Killian smirked and Emma could feel his scruff itch at the skin of her cheek, his breath hot and humid against her ear as he whispered the word that set her whole body alight with passion.

“You have not seen anything yet.”

  
Two hours later, Emma had drunk all of the wine.

Killian had surpassed himself this time and not only cooked Emma dinner, but had prepared absolutely everything himself. The linguine had not only been made entirely from scratch, but Killian had dyed the strips of pasta with squid ink, turning the whole dish a silky black. He had set sail, floating the Jolly Roger out of the bay and acquiring some fresh scallops from some far flung ocean corner, picked up some huge elegant tiger prawns on his way back to port, and had marinaded the whole dish in a white wine sauce.

And he had still found time to buy her favourite wine. Even if it wasn't enough between them, because they had finished every last drop. But that was okay, because Emma knew that Killian had a healthy stash of rum, and they had so far polished off over half of the bottle whilst playing the Game of Thrones drinking game.

“So, if I am to understand the rules of this game correctly...” Killian stopped mid slurred sentence to stifle a hiccup. He balled his fist and pressed it to his mouth, snorting deep in his throat.

“Don't throw up,” Emma warned, swaying next to him on the couch. Killian just closed his eyes and shook his head.

“...we see tits, and we drink.”

“Or ass,” Emma pointed at him assuredly.

“Tits or ass,” Killian confirmed with a drunken frown.

Emma snorted a laugh through her nose. “Ass and titties!” She declared loudly, rolling back on the couch and nearly spilling her half filled tumbler of rum. The dark liquid swirled up the side of its clear confines like a tidal wave.

Killian watched her fascinated by her sudden eruption of glee. “I'm sure that is yet another cultural reference that is beyond me.”

Emma's laughing ceased momentarily and she nodded in agreement. “It's from a song,” Emma frowned, wondering suddenly how she to explain _Three 6 Mafia_ and rap music in general to a pirate born in 1826. “Never mind.”

“Can I win this game?” Killian's words slipped from his lips more melded together than he would have liked.

“Aren't we competitive,” Emma teased, leaning her weight against Killian where he sat beside her. He just smirked at her, head bowed and an eyebrow raised.

“Well, why would I play if I cannot best you, love?”

“You can't best me. Period,” Emma mocked and narrowed her eyes, her already blurry vision almost disappearing.

“You and I both know that is untrue,” Killian quirked his brow at her again and lifted his glass to his lips.

“NO!” Emma screamed, lunging across his lap to grab his wrist before he could take a sip of his rum. Killian jumped back, eyes wide at her outburst.

“Hey!” he objected.

“We haven't started the next episode yet,” Emma told him firmly, her body suddenly heavy and unable to right itself from where she lay.

Killian laughed deep in his chest and when her hand slipped from his wrist, he gulped down the remainder of his rum. The alcohol scorched his throat, which had already become hoarse from screaming at the various characters on the screen – _the Greyjoys were NOT pirates_ – and Killian leaned forward to plant his empty tumbler to the coffee table. Emma groaned when she was slightly crushed under his chest and he plucked the matching tumbler from her grasp.

“I would rather see my wife's bosom,” Killian said softly, his words hanging on an unfinished statement as Emma rolled herself over awkwardly and peered up at him. Her hair spilled out over his lap and Killian couldn't help running his hand through the golden tresses.

“Oh yeah?” Emma smirked, biting the inside of her cheek.

Killian nodded. “I was so close earlier but she was hungry.”

Emma pursed out her bottom lip at him playfully. “Oh, that's so sad.”

“Aye, it is a tragedy,” Killian leaned forward and brushed his lips over Emma's softly, sucking on her bottom lip as he kissed her upside down. Emma's hand found his cheek, her fingertips brushing over his scruff and holding his face to hers as their tongues danced with each other. They both tasted of rum with the faintest hints of their seafood meal and red wine. It was an odd concoction, but neither noticed when Killian deepened the kiss and Emma sat up in response.

Drunk or not, they often seemed to sober up pretty quickly with a house to themselves. Henry had wanted to spend the night alone on the Jolly Roger, and Killian had agreed, oozing pride for his step son who had taken an interest in the vessel. One day the ship would be Henry's, so it meant a lot already that the sixteen-year-old showed diligence.

That's if they had no other children, and by the way they were going right now, it wasn't an impossible outcome.

Emma crawled over his lap, straddling Killian fluidly and instantly grinding down on his arousal. Her hands found his face, clawing at his cheeks, pulling his lips to hers more fervently. Killian wrapped his blunted arm around her back, holding her to him as they kissed, his other hand tracing the harsh lines of the seam of her jeans along her thigh.

“Would you like to see them now?” Emma breathed, their noses side by side and her words but a breath across his slightly parted lips. Killian's eyes opened and his ocean blue orbs were dark and stormy, a reflection of his desire. He gulped hard, unsure exactly why after so long Emma could still affect him this way. In a way, he was glad, but he suspected that drunk Emma was a little more willing to play to his fantasies than sober Emma.

“Aye,” He smirked, his mouth hanging open and his tongue tracing the edge of his front teeth.

Emma sat back on his lap, crossed her arms over her chest and toyed with the edge of her shirt. She gave Killian a wink, gently lifting the material a little to expose her taught stomach. Battles and sparring had left her toned, her abdomen almost rigid to touch, and she enjoyed the rush of cool air to her muscular frame.

“You want to see more?” Emma taunted her husband, letting the white cotton fall down over her stomach again, before lifting it a little higher. She watched his face light up, murky blue eyes riddled with alcohol but his attention as sharp as ever. “Maybe...what underwear I am wearing today?” Emma bit her bottom lip and pushed her hands under her shirt, groaning as she toyed with her ample breasts.

Killian swallowed a hard lump down his dry throat and couldn't help but reach out and trail a finger over her exposed hip. He loved watching Emma, who as it turned out, was quite the exhibitionist in the bedroom. Killian's face stretched into a boyish grin because he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what underwear she was wearing today. It was lacy, sheer and black with red accents along the waistline of the French style knickers and edge of the bra cups.

Seeing Emma in it was possibly the most erotic sight he had ever seen.

“Why don't you strip for me, love?” Killian offered a prompt, his fingers digging into the side of her torso earnestly.

Emma let out a girlish giggle and pressed her hands to his chest, bunching the material up in her hands and pulling his entire body from the back of the couch roughly. Killian gasped, unsure of her intentions, their lips millimetres apart and still swollen from their earlier kissing. Emma relaxed her hands and rolled her head to the side coyly, pushing her hands over his shoulders and then tugging the thing cotton of his t shirt over his head.

Killian flopped back against the couch, his nipples chilled and pebbling beneath his decadent layer of chest hair. Emma's hands were on his skin once more, her fingers threading through the black, curled hair that embellished his entire torso. Her fingers idled in the center of his abdomen, drawing lazy circles in the thicker growth there, her eyes following the trail down to where it disappeared inside of his sweatpants.

“What are you thinking?” Killian eyed her, trying to work out her thought process as her face twisted with thought. He had no doubt they were filthy, whatever her inference.

Emma leaned back, taking in his physique for a second. Killian Jones was a fine specimen of a man. He had muscles in all the right places, a perfect, boyish smile and the way he was proportioned set her bones on fire. Emma looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes boring into her very soul. Emma leaned forward and flattened her palms to his chest, her drunkenness causing her head to swirl unnoticed, and rested her lips to the outer shell of Killian's ear. His heart skipped in his chest, and he felt her fingers scratch at his skin.

“I want you to touch yourself,” Emma purred, her breath hot and humid against his ear. Killian shivered and felt himself harden in his sweatpants. “I need you to touch yourself whilst you watch me,” Emma reiterated her want, letting one hand leave Killian's chest to trail a single finger down behind his ear. Killian groaned aloud, his eyes pinching themselves closed as Emma stroked one of his many erogenous zones and wiggled herself harder against his erection.

Before he had time to reply, Emma was sliding from his lap and tugging the material of his sweatpants with her, exposing his rock hard member to the cool air in the room. Killian hissed a little, his erection twitching to be touched. Emma stepped back, crossing her arms, grabbing the hem of her shirt and finally lifting the white material over her head. It was tossed aside, joining Killian's shirt on the floor beside the couch.

Killian had remembered well, and Emma did indeed have his favourite underwear on. Black laced cups hid her heaving bosom behind a thin layer of padding, but Killian had Emma's body well and truly memorised. He knew the exact size, weight and temperature of her skin when she was aroused, and he could easily imagine away her underwear. He brushed his hand over his chest, teasing his own nipples before sliding it down to his erection and gripping at the velvety smooth shaft.

“Are you a bad boy?” Emma swayed her hips to invisible music, turning away from him as she popped open the button of her jeans.

“Aye,” Killian panted, stroking himself slowly. Emma's back was just as sexy as the rest of her, and her shoulders were covered in the warmth of her sunshine coloured locks.

Emma leaned forward a little, inching the fabric of her jeans over the curve of her behind. “Is this what you want to see, my naughty pirate?”

Killian's strokes sped up slightly and he dug his toes into the floor. “Aye, Swan. Show me more, love.”

Emma pushed her jeans a little harder past her hips and down her thighs. They were skin tight, and she folded her body in half, bending over in front of Killian in order to push the material all the way down her legs. She heard Killian growl and couldn't hide the smirk that crept along her rosy lips at his reaction.

Emma twisted her body so she was facing him once more and kneaded her sensitive breasts in front her him. She took a step towards him, ignoring the wobble of her legs as she tried to focus on her desire and not her inebriation. Emma let her head fall back, her long hair tickling at her waistline as she moaned and arched her back into her own touch.

“Killian...,” She whimpered.

“I'm here, love,” he assured her, pumping his member harder as she stalked towards him.

Emma reached around and unsnapped the clasp of her bra, letting it fall away and finally exposing Killian's prize. The anticipation of seeing Emma's smooth, milky skin was agony and for a second he had to halt his strokes when his body threatened to fall. When she was within reach, Killian sat forward on the couch, perching on the edge of the seat and pulling her to him harshly.

Emma let out a shriek, melting into his touch when Killian flattened his huge, hot palm over the cheek of her ass. He crushed his lips to the skin of her stomach, kissing his way along the jut of her hip bone and grabbed at the waistline of her panties, almost ripping the lace away from her. His whiskers scraped at her skin and the pool of warmth between her thighs ached a little more as Emma imagined his head between her legs. Emma pushed the sides of her underwear down, letting them pool at her feet to leave her naked before him.

Killian panted against her skin, nipping at the smooth skin of her thigh and inching his fingers into her apex. Emma smelled intoxicating, sweet and sensual with the slightest hint of vanilla coating her skin. Killian's fingers brushed over her sex, slipping on her juices that were already covering her outer folds because she was so turned on. Killian's need to taste her was insufferable, and he nuzzled his face into her soft mound, coaxing her thighs apart for him.

Emma braced herself on his shoulders and lifted on of her legs, resting her foot on the couch beside his naked hip. It was a silent invitation into her sweetness and Killian did not hesitate to take advantage of it. His scarred nub rested to the side of her elevated calf, rubbing up and down Emma's lower legs slowly, sending all of her nerve endings into spasm. As if that wasn't enough, when he finally pressed his tongue to her scorching clitoris, Emma squeaked and her vision went black.

Killian felt Emma's fingernails dig into the skin of his broad shoulders, the pain only momentarily causing him discomfort. Her reaction to his tongue on her most intimate area was one he always enjoyed, and was one that always left him with a new souvenir against his skin. Killian smirked and flicked his tongue against her aching nub, holding her to his face and drinking in her nectar impatiently. Emma's hips rocked against his face and she tussled her fingers into his hair, clenching a fistful of his black locks in an attempt to steady herself.

“Oh god...,” Emma panted hard when Killian explored her folds with two fingers, dipping the digits into her core to torment her. Killian pulled his face from her mound and Emma frowned, her brow knitting together in frustration.

She rolled her head forward, barely able to focus, and loosened her grip on his now messy hair. “You fucking tease,” She smiled at him, pushing his hair from his face and dipping her head to kiss him. Emma could taste herself on his tongue and Killian was right, she was excruciatingly sweet. Emma's hand found her throbbing clit once more and she rubbed it in circles, lubricated by a mixture of saliva and her own nectar.

Killian pushed her leg from the couch and firmly slapped her ass. Emma's eyes flew open and she jumped a little with the sudden pain that shot through her skin. His hand left a print and Killian smoothed his palm over the burning cheek. “Turn around,” he commanded darkly and Emma obeyed obediently.

“Aye, Aye, Captain,” Emma uttered seductively, spinning on her heels until she was facing away from him.

Killian took himself in hand once more stopping briefly to swat her ass one more time. Emma's skin pinked once it was thrashed and Killian sank back into the couch cushions some more, taking in the view of her rosy behind. Emma cast him a look over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed because she knew the game he was playing. They had done this before and it was one of Emma's favourites.

Without instruction, Emma sat back, purposefully missing Killian's weeping erection and settling herself against the hard planes of his toned abdomen. His hair tickled her sore cheeks but she ignored it, instead writhing against his chest hair some more when she laid back flush with his trunk. Killian reached under her leg, helping her lift it so she was resting her feet onto his thick, tensed thighs, and then began stroking himself once more.

“Do you know what I want?” Killian growled into her ear when she rested her head to his shoulder. Emma bit the inside of her lip and nodded, arching her back.

“To fuck me,” She breathed, her words almost lost in the quiver of her voice. Killian pressed his tip into her folds, teasing her with the prospect of entering her. He loved teasing her almost as much as he enjoyed actually having sex. The sense of power, especially over someone as impressive as The Saviour, was so addictive Killian thought he might explode at her words.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Emma?” Killian rasped against her neck, sucking on the pulse under her skin and easing into her searing center just a little. Emma moaned a little and whimpered when he pulled out again.

“Please...” she begged, sliding herself down his body, craving to feel him inside of her, stretching her walls and making her feel whole. Killian rocked his hips a little and Emma took in half his impressive length, her legs shaking a little because she was so close already. With all the foreplay and teasing Killian had wound her so tightly that she knew it wouldn't be long before she found her release.

Emma turned her head so she was facing Killian once more, her already sweaty skin sticking to his when their foreheads rested against each other. Killian kept her eyes contact, his breath hitching in a mirror image of her own as he pushed himself into her to the hilt, pausing to let her adjust to his full girth. Emma cried out and Killian seized her lips again, kissing away her mewl with long, languid strokes of his tongue. “You're so beautiful when you beg,” he whispered throatily.

“Oh my god,” Emma whined seductively, dazed and at Killian's mercy. “Please, please, please fuck me now.”

Killian nuzzled his nose into the soft skin behind Emma's ear, feeling the warmth her over his entire body. She clenched her inner muscles around him as he began moving in and out of her, each tender thrust causing her to erupt in rhythmic sighs. Killian wasn't sure how long he could hold off his own surrender, so reached over Emma's hips and began working her exquisite bundle of nerves closer to his goal.

Emma's hand found the back of his head, gripping into his messy hair on each of his thrust. Killian tolerated the pain in his scalp but bit down on Emma's shoulder is response, causing her to rock her hips a little faster. The angle was incredible and Killian could feel the tell tale flutter of Emma's inner walls around him as she approached her orgasm. Killian increased his speed, and when Emma's hand took over the furious rubbing of her clit, he moved to massage the pliable skin of her engorged breasts.

Emma's nipples jutted out under his palm, each one getting a turn to be rolled between his fingers and teased with the cool metal of his rings. Emma's body reacted instantly and her breath hitched in her throat, rolling her hand even faster over her nerve hub as her vision blurred and she cried out in ecstasy. Assured that she had finally come when her body went limp, Killian pounded into her a few more times before his own frenzied climax found him and rendered him helpless.

There was only the sound of deep panting when Emma finally opened her eyes. Her skin was hot, burning to the touch and her apex throb with the after shocks of her orgasm. Killian's silky smooth shaft was still inside of her, softening only a little after he has emptied himself into her. Emma relaxed her grip on his hair and her face spread into a content grin when Killian smoothed his hand over her stomach and kissed the skin of her shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she stifled a laugh and let her legs go limp over Killian's. He finally went soft and slipped from her swollen core, both of them ignoring the dribble of ejaculate that followed.

“That is one way of putting it,” He laughed, wrapping his arms around Emma tightly and burrowing his nose into the golden tresses of her hair once more.

“You ruin me, Mr. Jones,” Emma turned herself so she was snuggled against his chest and let her fingers run over the sword of his necklace. Somehow she has forgotten it and was sure she would have a mark on her back in the morning.

Killian nestled his lips against the crown of her head and kissed her sweetly. “And you love it.”

  
That night, Emma dreamed of her husband some more. If it wasn't enough that he literally invaded her body, Killian Jones invaded her dreams too. When they had retreated to their bedroom, content to clear away their discarded clothes in the morning, Emma had insisted on showing Killian her appreciation for his efforts. Twice more. And Emma loved it.

She awoke with a smile planted firmly on her face, her lips stretched sideways into the sunshine that was invading their bedroom and beginning to creep across her features. Emma stretched out under the covers, her camisole twisted around her body awkwardly where she had moved so much in the night. Emma had always been a light sleeper until she met Killian because falling asleep in his arms felt like the safest place in the entire world.

Emma smoothed her hands across the bumps of the mattress and frowned when all she found was the bed empty beside her. She finally peeled an eye open and sure enough, Killian was gone and his side of the bed was pulled over neatly in an attempt to half make it with her still in it. Emma opened her other eye, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and pushed herself to sit up.

Instantly, all of her blood pooled from her face and left a pounding sensation across her temples. Her mouth was dry, probably because she snored, and her tongue tasted of alcohol. They had consumed a reasonable amount last night, and Emma smacked her lips together, trying desperately to remove the lasting taste with a disgusted frown. She peered around the room, but she was alone, only the dust particles dancing through the sunlight keeping her company.

Emma threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed with a yawn. Her muscles ached under her shoulder blades and she rolled her shoulders to ease the tension between them. Emma spied her sleeps shorts on the floor beside the bed and her lips twitched into a smile when she remembered how they had been discarded by Killian only moments after putting them on. She reached down for them and pulled them on, dragging her heavy feet to their en suite bathroom to brush her teeth.

When Emma emerged she heard a clatter from downstairs. She cocked her head, listening for more noise, but was only met with silence. Emma padded from the room, her footsteps falling silently against the wooden floor of the hall as she made her way to the stairs. Her hair was messy, frizzy at the ends, so she pulled it back into a loose ponytail and then wound it around itself until it was in a high bun. Content it wasn't going to fall back over her shoulders anytime soon, Emma wrapped her fingers around the banister rail and sneaked down stairs.

Killian was in the kitchen, a dirty bowl cast to one side, the sink full of used utensils and a used chopping board that stuck out at an odd angle. Emma smiled at his domestic nature, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall to watch him. Killian was wearing his sweatpants from last night but a quick look over her shoulder at the discarded pile of clothes confirmed that he was currently commando. His shirt was also still there, and he flitted around the kitchen half naked, his muscular back rippling and tensing with every movement.

Emma rested her head against the cool, painted wall and just watched her husband move. He was fluid, each sideways step and action completed as if he was being choreographed. In reality, there was no one instructing him on how to move around their kitchen. Killian Jones just knew how to from years and years of swashbuckling sword play and keeping his balance aboard a ship at sea.

“Enjoying the view, love?” Killian said without turning the face her. He was busy letting a yellow, egg like mixture dribble out of a bowl into something Emma couldn't see from where she was.

“I am,” Emma confirmed with a smile and pushed her weight from the wall.

“Am I that becoming?” Killian smirked to himself, watching the last remnants of his mixture fall from the bowl with a shake. Yesterday, as he shopped for dinner items, Killian happened upon the good fortune of recalling a recipe he had found online and had yet to try. While it looked arguably disgusting in its current state, he had no doubt it would bake and be perfectly transformed into something more edible.

“What are you cooking?” Emma interrupted his musings when she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled her face into the dip between his shoulder blades.

“An arugula and pancetta quiche,” He felt Emma inhale and smile against his skin, pulling him closer to her with tiny, splayed hands over his belly.

“Sounds delicious,” Emma droned softly.

“Aye, I hope so,” Killian agreed, trying to find the will to ignore the way her hands over his skin made him shiver with excitement. The hair on his torso was softer than Emma remembered last night, so he must have showered already, and another sniff of his skin confirmed her suspicions.

“You showered already,” Emma pouted, her words muffled against the smooth skin of his back. Her fingers wound through his blackened curls, glossing over his belly hair and moving upwards to the thick layer over his chest. “You smell good.”

Killian grinned and the hair on the back of his neck stood to attention when she brushed her fingertips over his nipples. Killian rested his hand over her forearm loosely, letting her feel his skin and cling to his back as long as she wanted to. Finally, Emma rolled her face against his skin and planted her supple lips to the dip between his shoulder blades, letting her kiss linger for a second with a content hum.

Emma's hum turned a little darker and her hands roamed over the front of his body more amorously. She pushed harder against his skin, kneading his pecs and smirking at the hardened nipples under her palms. Killian laughed and spun around in her arms, a little embarrassed, and buried his face into her neck. He kissed along her clavicle, enjoying the access now her hair was tied back.

“Swan, are you still drunk? How much wine did you have last night?” he quirked his eyebrow at her but it went unnoticed because Emma was far too busy watching her hands drag her fingernails through his chest hair down to the thick patch by his waistline.

“I'm just trying enjoying my husband,” she sang innocently, images of last night flashing before her eyes.

“Who is trying to cook you a fancy breakfast quiche, my love.” Killian had already preheated the oven and stepped from her grasp for a second to place the raw quiche inside. Adjusting the temperature, he turned back to a sulking Emma. “What?” He mirrored her smirk when Emma bit her bottom lip and wiggled her brow at him.

“I think it's pronounced 'quickie',” She giggled and launched herself into his arms.


End file.
